Edward Aubyn - The Patrick Melrose Novels - Never Mind, Bad News, Some Hope, and Mother's Milk

Eventually, after a whole fortnight without a lover, she had managed to seduce Johnny Hall, Patrick’s best friend. Johnny wasn’t as good as Patrick because he worked during the day. Still, as a journalist he could often ‘work on a story at home’, which was when, they could spend the whole day in bed.

Some subtle questioning had established that Johnny didn’t yet know about her affair with Patrick, and she had sworn Johnny to secrecy about their own affair. She didn’t know whether to be insulted by Patrick’s silence or not, but she intended to let Patrick know about Johnny whenever it would cause maximum confusion. She knew that Patrick still found her sexy, even if he had reservations about her personality. Even she had reservations about her personality.

When the phone rang, Laura raised her head and wriggled across the bed.

‘Don’t answer it,’ moaned Johnny, but he knew he was in a weak position, having left the room earlier to talk to Patrick. He lit a cigarette.

Laura turned to him and stuck her tongue out, hooking her hair behind her ear as she picked up the phone. ‘Hello,’ she said, suddenly serious.

‘Hi.’

‘China! God, your party was so great,’ gasped Laura, pinching her nose with her thumb and index finger and raising her eyes to the ceiling. She had already analysed with Johnny what a failure it had been.

‘Did you really think it was a success?’ China asked sceptically.

‘Of course it was, darling, everybody loved it,’ said Laura, grinning at Johnny.

‘But everybody got stuck in the downstairs room,’ China whined. ‘I really hated it.’

‘One always hates one’s own parties,’ said Laura sympathetically, rolling onto her back and stifling a yawn.

‘But you really did like it,’ pleaded China. ‘Promise.’

‘Promise,’ said Laura, crossing her fingers, her legs, and finally her eyes. Suddenly convulsed with silent giggles, she raised her feet in the air and rocked on the bed.

Johnny watched, amazed by her childishness, faintly contemptuous of the mocking conspiracy into which he was being drawn, but charmed by the contortions of her naked body. He sank back against the pillows, scanning the details which might explain, but only confirmed the mystery of his obsession: the small dark mole on the inner slope of her hip bone, the surprisingly thick golden hair on her forearm, the high arch of her pale feet.

‘Is Angus with you?’ sighed China.

‘No, he’s going straight from Scotland to the party. I have to collect him in Cheltenham. It’s such a bore, I don’t see why he can’t get a taxi.’

‘Save, save, save,’ said China.

‘He looked so good on paper,’ said Laura, ‘but when it comes down to it, he’s completely obsessed with whether a cheap-day return is refundable if you don’t use the second half, and other fascinating problems of that kind. It makes one long for an extravagant lover.’ She allowed one of her knees to flop sideways on the bed.

Johnny took a long drag on his cigarette and smiled at her.

China hesitated and then, spurred on by the thought that Laura’s praise of her party might not have been entirely sincere, she said, ‘You know there’s a rumour going around that you’re having an affair with Patrick Melrose.’

‘Patrick Melrose,’ said Laura, as if she were repeating the name of a fatal disease, ‘you must be joking.’ She raised her eyebrows at Johnny and putting her hand over the mouthpiece whispered, ‘Apparently I’m having an affair with Patrick.’

He flicked up one of his eyebrows and stubbed out his cigarette.

‘Who on earth told you that?’ she asked China.

‘I shouldn’t really tell you, but it was Alexander Politsky.’

‘Him, I don’t even know him.’

‘Well, he thinks he knows about you.’

‘How pathetic,’ said Laura. ‘He just wants to get in with you by pretending he knows all about your friends.’ Johnny knelt in front of Laura and, catching both her feet, eased her legs apart.

‘He said he found out from Ali Montague,’ China insisted.

Laura drew in her breath sharply. ‘Well, that just proves it’s a lie,’ she sighed. ‘Anyway, I don’t even fancy Patrick Melrose,’ she added, digging her nails into Johnny’s arms.

‘Oh, well, you know better than me whether you’re having an affair with him or not,’ China concluded. ‘I’m glad you’re not, because personally I find him really tricky…’

Laura held the phone in the air so Johnny could hear. ‘And,’ continued China, ‘I can’t stand the way he treated Debbie.’

Laura put the phone back to her ear. ‘It was disgusting, wasn’t it?’ she said, grinning at Johnny, who leaned down to bite her neck. ‘But who are you going to the party with?’ she asked, knowing that China was going alone.

‘I’m not going with anybody, but there’s someone called Morgan Ballantine,’ China put on an unconvincing American accent to pronounce his name, ‘who is going to be there, and I’m quite keen on him. He’s supposed to have just inherited two hundred and forty million dollars and an amazing gun collection,’ she added casually, ‘but that’s not really the point, I mean, he’s really sweet.’

‘He may be worth two hundred and forty million dollars, but is he going to spend it?’ asked Laura, who had bitter experience of how misleading these figures could be. ‘That’s the real question,’ she said, propping herself up on one elbow and effortlessly ignoring the caresses she had found so breathtaking moments before. Johnny stopped and leaned over, partly from curiosity, but also to disguise the fact that his sexual efforts could not compete with the mention of such a large sum of money.

‘He did say something rather sinister the other day,’ China admitted.

‘What?’ asked Laura eagerly.

‘Well, he said, “I’m too rich to lend money.” A friend of his had gone bankrupt, or something.’

‘Don’t touch him,’ said Laura, in her special serious voice. ‘That’s the kind of thing Angus says. You think it’s all going to be private planes, and the next thing you know he’s asking for a doggy bag in a restaurant, or implying that you ought to be doing the cooking. It’s a complete nightmare.’

‘That reminds me,’ said China, rather annoyed that she had given so much away. ‘We played a wonderful game after you left last night. Everybody had to think of the things people were least likely to say, and someone came up with one for Angus: “Are you sure you won’t have the lobster?”’

‘Very funny,’ said Laura drily.

‘By the way, where are you staying?’ asked China.

‘With some people called Bossington-Lane.’

‘Me too,’ exclaimed China. ‘Can I have a lift?’

‘Of course. Come here about twelve thirty and we can go out to lunch.’

‘Perfect,’ said China. ‘See you later.’

‘Bye, darling,’ Laura trilled. ‘Stupid cow,’ she said, putting the phone down.

* * *

All her life men had rushed around Cindy, like the citizens of Lilliput with their balls of string, trying to tie her down so she wouldn’t wreck their little lives, but now she was thinking of tying herself down voluntarily.

‘Hello?’ she purred in her soft Californian accent. ‘Can I speak with David Windfall, please?’

‘Speaking,’ said David.

‘Hi there, I’m Cindy Smith. I guess Sonny already talked to you about tonight.’

‘He certainly did,’ said David, flushing to a deeper shade of raspberry than usual.

‘I hope you’ve got your Sonny and Bridget invitation, ’cause I sure don’t have one,’ said Cindy with disarming candour.

‘I’ve got mine in the bank,’ said David. ‘One can’t be too careful.’